The Clarity Of Darkness
by doc100
Summary: A Challenge piece that takes place mid season 10 after 'The Four Percent Solution' and 'Automatic For the People', but then veers off into an alternative universe.
1. Chapter 1

**The Clarity of Darkness** by doc

**AN:** _This is my answer to the March 2007 HBX Challenge._

_I had an interesting idea for this story, but I'm not quite sure I pulled it off. I started writing it at the beginning of the month, as soon as the challenge lines were posted, but got bogged down in the details & finer points of the plot. Sometimes stories flow easily, & sometimes they're just plain work…this one definitely qualified as WORK. Of course, crazy hospital hours & building a new house didn't help either. I finally had a relatively quiet night on call and decided to barricade myself in the call room, hunker down & finish it. It was either me, or the story, and I was determined to win…well finish anyways. I'm not sure anyone actually won? Did I mention I'm missing my sappy Rabb family & their conniving trio of pets? So this is what you get when you take sappy away!_

_This story takes place in the latter half of season 10, sometime after 'The Four Percent Solution' and 'Automatic For The People', but then veers off into an alternative universe…way off! I thought it might be fun to explore a side of our dynamic duo that I seldom allow my mind to entertain, much less seriously dabble in. I think I understand both characters fairly well, but I suspect I can empathize with Mac a little more. It's the female thing! So this time, I'm trying something new. I'm attempting to climb into the mind of Harmon Rabb. And let me tell you, IT'S A SCARY PLACE TO BE! Especially when you're sleep deprived and running on fumes. Something else new, this story is written completely in first person, although the 'first person' perspective changes hands toward the end of the story. I think I make it pretty clear when that happens._

_WARNING WARNING: Will Robinson, step away from the computer! Big Smile…this is your last chance to walk away. DON'T KILL ME! YOU HAVE BEEN FOREWARNED…READ TO THE END BEFORE THROWING KNIVES! Trust me??? Wicked grin!_

_**xxxxx**_

_Special thanks to Mom, my faithful finder and keeper of all things related to spelling and grammar._

_Disclaimer: I don't own JAG or any of the characters. I just take them out and play with them on occasion before replacing them safe and sound back on the shelf. I also wish to thank Sir William Shakespeare for allowing me to pilfer his 116th Sonnet._

**xxxxxxxxxx XXXXX xxxxxxxxxx**

**The Clarity of Darkness**

**Part 1a**

As I lie here in the dark, eyes closed tightly, I imagine her here in my arms. The heaven that is my dream far surpasses the hell that is the reality of my life. Even without the visual confirmation offered by sight, I swear I can smell her, here in my bed, beside me…that essence so uniquely her. It claims me, tantalizing my senses, drawing me closer to her apparition…exotic, alluring, captivating. Like a stranglehold it threatens to drown me, dragging me under the swells, consuming me whole. And yet, I know I would die a happy and contented man. All I ask is one more chance to be with her…a moment…the span of a breath. Is a heartbeat too much to ask? I plead for that second chance to right a wrong, to change the past…to cherish what I threw away.

I huddle in upon myself trying to escape the despair that descends upon my heart like midnight, cold and chilling to my very soul. I reach for the warmth of my illusion. Allowing my mind to drift, I flee the constraints of reality and find her…deep…deep within. In this private sanctuary of my dream world I can feel her. We become one. Sight now gone, except for the visions conjured up in my mind. My senses heighten to her touch, her smell, her voice. My fingertips glide over the silky softness of her skin trailing up the graceful slope of her back. My breath seizes and shudders, catching in my chest, as I feel the caress of her lips against my neck…gentle, light, teasing. I shiver to the thrill of her touch praying for more. My nose tingles and twitches against the tickling sensation elicited as I bury my nose in her hair, inhaling deeply…taking her further into my soul. How can my dream world be so incredibly vivid and perfect, when my reality is so horribly wrong?

I clench my eyelids tighter still, trying to erase my present existence. Even in the pitch-black darkness of night, I swear I can still perceive the light of the moon and the dancing of stars through my closed lids. I refuse to open my eyes, to accept what is real, savoring my illusion over the crushing weight of loneliness that beckons me toward the light of day. I know I can't stay here forever, duty calls at the rise of the dawn, but just for tonight…I yearn to float away in the revelry of my delusion…

And yet, isn't a dream what started the nightmare that is my present life? I sigh in despair as her image fades and withers away, disappearing into that void at the edge of my consciousness, only to be replaced by the oppressive memories of that day…that week. Events swirl through my mind and close in on me like a thick fog rolling in from the sea. I am just as powerless to stop them now as I was then. How prophetic that my final attempt to maintain control should ignite the very destruction of my soul. Her past words reverberate in my mind…a noose around my neck indeed. The recriminating memories come unbidden one by one…

**xxxxx**

It all started shortly after Christmas just as our lives appeared to be falling into place. Mac and I had quietly celebrated the holiday together after the gut wrenching events of Christmas Eve. We talked…well, kind of…in generalities, at least. Neither of us made any life-altering declarations, but we both agreed that we were still here…together. I'm not sure either of us knew what that meant. Or maybe a more accurate description is, we each knew what we wanted from the other, but neither of us actually voiced those desires or concerns. We just drifted on in that nebulous place of ignorance and assumption that we had mastered so well over the years. That infernal dance…round and round…back and forth…no ending or beginning…no advance or retreat…NO DAMN PROGRESS!

A short time later, I was sent TAD to California to investigate a flight mishap. Luckily, it turned out the Navy wasn't responsible for that particular crash…it was a dumb stunt. Literally! The person, and I use that term loosely, responsible for the mishap was a dummy. It was during this junket to California that my misery began. A redhead, I shake my head in disgust. Funny, I never really saw myself falling for someone with auburn hair. In my former fighter jock years, it was blondes. Then I met a brunette in a rose garden and I knew I was gone. Oh, don't get me wrong, I didn't allow myself to admit that I was actually smitten just then. No, I had to be pulled kicking and screaming into my reality. I tried to find solace in others first. Heaven forbid I take the direct, uncomplicated route to happiness. My fears and demons would never allow the easy way out. I had to be dragged through 8 years of torture first, trying to avoid falling too deeply or giving too much of myself away. Life would've been so much easier if I'd just fallen on top of her and kissed her senseless when she pulled me into that helo in the Arizona desert.

Of course, to be perfectly honest, she wasn't exactly taking the short direct route either. In the beginning, she erected her own walls of defense. We'd both lost at an early age and learned to keep our feelings close to the vest. But through those early years, she began to soften and let me in…I just wasn't ready. I had important dreams to fulfill, flying being at the top of the list. That inherent need to follow my father's footsteps and make him proud. Funny how that goal seems so short-sided now…now, that I've lost what I want most.

I finally admitted my heart's true desire about 3 years back, but neither of us had the courage to take the first step. I'd laugh if it weren't so sad. I can fly mach one through the heavens, chase a dirty nuke across the sky, and take on terrorists with nary a flinch, but when it comes to uttering 3 little words…8 tiny letters…I freeze up with catatonic fright. I did eventually screw up my courage, and toss away my safety net, to pursue her to a South American hellhole…only to go down in brilliant, blazing flames. Not one of my crashes hurt nearly as much as that catastrophe. I crawled away to lick my wounds vowing never to cross that particular bridge again. I became quite adept at isolating myself and living in my own little land of denial, thank you very much. I didn't need anyone or anything…well, that was until Christmas, a year back. Funny how all my important life events happen around that holiday. Anyway, she made the first overture of peace and gave me my best Christmas gift ever…a child. It wasn't exactly how I envisioned fulfilling our deal, but that precious gift came at a time when I needed it most. That child rescued me, far more than I rescued her. Mac and I still weren't together, but at least, we were talking again. Then came Clay's phony death. His subterfuge gave me a second chance to fulfill my dream of happiness. I waited patiently…and waited…and waited some more. Praying my persistent, though silent, support would eventually ensure my success. I was almost there…so close I could feel it…then…

Then came California. I don't know what came over me. I had vowed to be there for Mac when she was ready. But when we didn't make any progress…I can't believe I was swayed by a kiss, but it felt so good to be needed, admired and desired. Who knew everything could go so wrong. I didn't plan it, and heaven help me, I never saw it coming. It was just a concert…

I remember it like it was yesterday…

**xxxxx**

I thought I would surprise Mac with a special treat. Like I said, we'd fallen back into our comfort zone of silence, unvoiced wishes & inertia. After grappling with the events of California, I decided to make a preemptive strike. I planned a subtle romantic evening, one that could be shared by friends…or hopefully more. A night of music, dinner and dancing. It had been so long since we'd enjoyed a night out like that. The National Symphony Orchestra was hosting a special concert by the Kennedy Center Chamber Players. I thought it would be the perfect distraction. Mac begged off claiming she needed some space. SPACE?! Was she kidding me? I'd already given her 6 months of space. Hell, it had actually been almost 2 years, & half a continent if you counted Paraguay…

I retort back with wounded pride, "What are you afraid of, Mac?"

"I'm not afraid! I just need…."

"WHAT? WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED? WHAT HAVEN'T I GIVEN YOU ALREADY?!"

"Time," she whispers on hushed breath.

"Time? You've gotta be kidding me! You've had time!" I rake through my scalp with agitated fingers, pulling at my hair, trying to control my frustration.

"I just can't…."

"Don't say it," I declare with ferocity in my stare. "I've been patient…stood by…waiting unwaveringly for you to be ready. I need to know," I turn my back to her, afraid to read the truth in her eyes, "…I HAVE to know, if I'm waiting in vain. Is this thing ever going to happen between us?"

"Why now?" her voice pleads, "…can't you just…."

I peer back at her, dejected, shoulders slumped, "Sarah, you can't run all your life. Trust me, I've tried…you need to grab hold of what you want…what's right in front of you."

A tear tracks down her cheek, "I can't…please, I just need more…."

"Time," my voice cracks in pain as I slowly exit her office.

**xxxxx**

After that, I was determined to move on with my life. I'd waited long enough. If you can't love the one you want, you love the one you're with…isn't that how the old song goes? At least, that was my new motto and I was sticking to it. As luck would have it, or misfortune as the case may be, a visitor showed up in my office a few days later. A beautiful willing woman, who didn't utter words like 'never' or 'can't' or 'more time.' And yes, you guessed it; she had amazing red hair.

I asked her what she was doing in D.C. She presented me with one of her paintings, a gift of gratitude, and offered an invitation for lunch. It was just lunch I reasoned, no need to decline…a casual meal between acquaintances. Lunch, of course, led to dinner. She showed up again in the office the next day. Mac took notice of my intriguing female visitor from across the bullpen. When Megan took her leave for a brief visit to the ladies room, Mac descended on my office hurt and incensed. I gently, but insistently, reminded her that she'd rejected my offers of support…and more. When she argued that she'd only wanted time…I countered that I'd given her unlimited chances, and had only been rebuffed. Tears flashed in her eyes, as she argued that feelings of lov…affection shouldn't be subjected to conditions and timelines. I reminded her, that she herself, had disregarded my desires and moved on, when placed in a similar situation in the past. As Megan reentered the bullpen, I quickly wiped Mac's tears and sent her back to her office with a friendly goodbye. Friends…just friends…we were destined to only be friends.

Megan and I enjoyed that romantic evening out and a few more to follow. But as the novelty of being wooed by a new interest waned and the pain of a perceived rejection lessened, I realized that my heart couldn't…wouldn't…give up quite so easily. '_Love is not love…which alters when it alteration finds.' _The words of Shakespeare flutter through my mind. Isn't it funny how seemingly insignificant memories from your past make an almost prophetic appearance at the most absurd times? I remember scoffing at my Academy professor's assignment from second-year English Lit…_'identify, memorize and recite a work of literature which accurately depicts the qualities of love.'_ I can still hear my bunkmate razzing me over that one. Who knew Shakespeare's eloquence could still ring true over 400 years later. Of course, love…true love, of the true unconditional kind…is an emotion, which is constant and unchanging through time, as steadfast as the Northern Star. Isn't that exactly what Shakespeare was trying to describe? The words slip easily from tongue as if I'd memorized them just yesterday, rather than 2 decades before.

_Let me not to the marriage of true minds_

_Admit impediments. Love is not love_

_Which alters when it alteration finds,_

_Or bends with the remover to remove:_

_O no! It is an ever-fixed mark_

_That looks on tempests and is never shaken;_

_It is the star to every wandering bark,_

_Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken._

_Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

_Within his bending sickle's compass come:_

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._

_If this be error and upon me proved,_

_I never writ, nor no man ever loved._

With blinding clarity, despite my sleepless night, I enter the bullpen the next morning in search of Mac. If the events of Paraguay taught me nothing else, it's that the burden of loving is not easily overcome. You can try to mask the feelings behind scathing contradictory remarks. You can run in a futile attempt to escape its intense pull. But in the end, love…_true love_…doesn't alter or remove.

I find her office closed, dark and tightly locked. I rush to Coates' desk, with my best flyboy smile in place, intent on garnering the information I so desperately need.

"Jen, I was wondering…is Colonel MacKenzie out on assignment or just running late today?"

Coates stares back with a puzzled look of bemusement. "I'm sorry, Sir?"

"The Colonel? I need to talk to her, when do expect her in?" My fingers begin to fidget with the hem of my jacket; and I curse the regs, which prohibit me from securing them in my pockets.

That puzzled look remains, "Ah, I don't know, Sir."

"What do you mean you don't know, Coates? Colonel MacKenzie hasn't reported in today?"

"Well actually…no. Why would she, Sir?"

A feeling of intense exhaustion is starting to drag me under just as the beginnings of a headache thump at my brow. I reach up to massage my temple, but stop mid motion when I notice the tremor in my hand. A deep sense of foreboding engulfs me and steals away my breath. I swallow repeatedly, while trying to breathe and push the words past my parched throat.

"Coates, our orders come across the General's desk long before they land on ours. And as for the Colonel, she always checks-in when she's going to be late. So where is she?"

"Sir?" her eyes dart up to a point over my right shoulder. I know this move; I've mastered it. You look over your C.O.'s shoulder when you don't wanna look'em in the eye. When you know the information you're about to relay will be the detonator for a heated explosion.

"Coates," I warn.

"Sir, you're right…Colonel MacKenzie would report in _if _this were her duty assignment," her voice falters on the world _'if_.'

"IF?!" I force the word past my lips with a mixture of shock and dread. "What do you mean _IF_?"

"The Colonel, Sir," her eyes flick to mine before darting away once more, "…ah, she didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what," my nails dig deeper into my palms drawing blood.

"She's, ah," she glances toward Creswell's door, "…maybe you should speak with the General, Sir."

"Coates!"

Her chin drops to her chest as she mumbles, "Italy…Sir."

"Italy? What are you talking about?"

"The Colonel…she's been reassigned to Naples."

"Naples?" my head is spinning. "But she didn't tell me!" Coates' expression remains sympathetic and contrite. "I need to speak with the General, Petty Officer!"

"Yes Sir!"

She quickly dials our C.O. and requests permission for a meeting. I knock once and hurriedly enter the office, coming to attention before Creswell's desk.

"Commander, you needed to see me?"

"Yes Sir," my eyes immediately gravitate to that spot on the wall behind his left shoulder. "Sir, I was wondering why Colonel MacKenzie's been transferred out?"

"I wasn't aware that my orders for JAG personnel had to meet with your approval, Commander."

My eyes flick back to his face in time to see the cold grey steel of emotion reflected in his stare. "Of course not, Sir. It's just that the Colonel and I are…."

"Are what? Is there some non work-related involvement between the two of you that requires your input into her duty assignment?"

"Noo-no," the word stutters from lips, "…of course not, Sir. It's just that…the Colonel and I…are…friends. I thought she might have confided in me about this move."

"It was a quick decision," he dismisses it with a wave of his hand. "Her orders were cut in the last 48 hours, and she was required to ship out immediately. Is there anything else, Commander?"

"Umm, yes Sir…I was wondering if I might request some leave?"

"You can request leave through the customary channels, Commander. Submit your time to Petty Officer Coates, and I'll consider it based on the current staffing shortages."

"But Sir, I need immediate…."

"Denied Commander. With the unexpected loss of Colonel MacKenzie, we're seriously undermanned here."

"But Sir…" that pleading tone is back in my voice. I can't help but notice the similarity in my appeal to a request made to another C.O. in this very same office some 2 years prior. Then, just as now, my marine tried to escape to a country faraway…residing in a continent halfway around the world.

"I said denied!"

"But Sir, I have to! My very life depends…."

"STAND DOWN, COMMANDER! You are dismissed!"

"Yes Sir," I click my heels in a half-hearted salute and retreat from his office.

Hurrying past Coates' desk, I rush to my office, slamming the door and barricading myself in. I reach for my phone, dialing her home number without conscious effort. After 4 rings, the message I dread most fills my ears.

"The number you have just dialed is no longer in service. No forwarding number has been…"

I disconnect the line and quickly dial her cell, expecting the same irritating….

"The customer you are trying to reach is no longer in network…."

I slam the handset back into its cradle. "You are not going to escape me that easily, Marine," I mutter to the empty room.

I lift the phone and dial Coates' extension, "Petty Officer, I need the number for NLSO…"

"Naples Sir?"

"Uh, yes…thank you, Coates."

My line buzzes a minute later, "Sir, I have the number you requested, but it's after duty hours. I did manage to reach the Colonel's legal assist. I have her on the line, Sir."

"Thank you, Jen. Could you please put her through?"

Within a moment the line rings with activity, "Commander Rabb."

"Yes Sir, this is Petty Officer Magalis. I will be Colonel MacKenzie's legal assist. Can I help you, Sir?"

"I'm sorry for the late hour, Petty Officer. I'm trying to reach Colonel MacKenzie about an important matter."

"Is this about a case or an investigation, Sir?"

"Excuse me?" the furrow in my brow deepens.

"I'm, ah…I'm sorry, Sir. Colonel MacKenzie hasn't taken over her duties yet, so if this is in regards to a case…."

I sigh heavily into the phone, "No Petty Officer, this isn't about an active case. The Colonel and I are old friends. I was hoping to get her number so I could speak with her."

"I'm sorry, Sir," the voice on the other end stutters with unease, "…but…Colonel MacKenzie specifically instructed me…not…to give out her personal phone number. She also requested that only work related messages and calls be referred back to her. Does this message pertain to a work related issue, Sir?"

"No Petty Officer, I'm afraid it doesn't." My voice cracks with barely contained frustration, "Again, thank you for your time."

"Not a problem, Sir."

I hang up the phone dejected and wallowing in my self-inflicted pain. What have I done? And is there any way to fix it? Over the next several days, I repeatedly try to connect with Mac, but always to the same end. I even try enlisting Coates in my cause, but to no avail. She's under strict instruction not to divulge any private information regarding one Colonel Sarah MacKenzie. I begin setting my alarm for the early predawn hours, hoping to catch Mac unawares, just as the office roars to life in the first harried moments of the day. Nothing works. Nothing! The wall is steep, thick and impenetrable. I go down in blazing defeat.

Finally, 3 weeks after this heartrending debacle began, I admit loss. I realize that a Rabb-MacKenzie matrimonial link isn't in the cards dealt by fate. Correction, it might well have been fate's intended plan, if I hadn't been so insistent on kicking fate in the shins. Of course, I'm not so deluded; as to think, this disaster is all MY fault. No, Mac and I both played a hand. It's just that…I'm the one responsible for firing the final shot. The one that left our relationship in a quivering, gasping, lifeless heap. And though I'm trained in basic resuscitation, I don't know any technique that can resuscitate this train wreck.

You know there's a proverb, '_If you love something set it free; if it returns its yours forever, if not it was never meant to be._' Problem is, I didn't gently set her free, I threw her into the middle of a storm with hurricane force winds. The chance of her…me…us…surviving the intensity of that storm is nonexistent, never mind her returning to me. And I have no one to thank but myself.

**xxxxx**

_Continued in Part 1b_


	2. Chapter 1b

**Part 1b**

"Sarah," her name dies on my lips. I sit up in a cold sweat gasping for breath. Taking in my surrounds, I realize I've been asleep in my own bed. It was all a dream…or rather a horrible, frightening nightmare. Glancing around my bedroom, I ascertain that I am indeed in my bed…and alone. I struggle to calm my galloping heart and drop back against the tangle of pillows and sheets that have managed to ensnare me in their grasp.

The early light of the morning sunrise is peeking through the slats of my blinds. As I investigate the four walls of my room, I notice that nothing is out of place, save for the unruly disaster of my bed. Listening with the uttermost concentration, I hear the familiar sounds of my abode. The ticking of a clock, the traffic on the street, the blowing sounds of the furnace, and the gurgling rush of the coffeemaker as the water heats.

As my heart rate returns to normal, I slowly rise from my bed, kicking off the restraints of the bed linens. Making my way into the bathroom, I take care of my normal morning routine. Standing before the mirror, I take note of my appearance. My skin is pale and still glistens with a fine sheen of sweat. Dark circles ring my eyes, and the tiny lines that crease my brow seem to have deepened overnight into intense furrows.

As I splash cold water over my face, I vow to heed the message of my dream. Life is short, and love not to be taken for granted. I feel like I'm Ebenezer Scrooge from _'A Christmas Carol.'_ I've been granted a second chance. One I will not waste.

I amble through my bedroom with a lighter step and shiver in the cool morning air. The dampness of my skin adds to the chill. I head down the stairs in search of a cup of much needed caffeine, before I return to shower. Just as I reach the dining room of my loft, my nose detects a light floral scent. I peer through the open space searching out the source. I am thrilled to note that no unwelcome redhead has made herself at home in my space. I inhale deeper, trying to place the scent. It's subtle and sweet as if it lingers left behind. My heart accelerates within my chest when I realize the perfume is completely unfamiliar. As in, it doesn't belong to Mac, and that weighty sense of dread returns.

It is at that moment that I notice the article of clothing sitting on my bar. I approach it with trepidation, as if it might strike like a poisonous snake. Placed atop the billowing cloth is a pair of tickets. I reach out with quivering hand and grasp the torn paper stubs. Opening my eyes a millimeter at a time, I gasp when I read the name of the event and the date. Oh, please no, I plead to Him who is holy on high. It can't be! But sure enough, they are the tickets to the romantic concert planned in my dream. And worse yet, they have clearly been used for attendance…the night before.

I set them aside and lightly stroke the surface of the black velvet wrap. Drawing it into my hands, I raise it to my face and am immediately overwhelmed by the unwelcome fragrance of that mystery perfume. I carefully unfold the soft black velvet shawl and am filled with horror. Embroidered in a delicate wispy script is a large letter _'M'_. How can that be? My dream…my nightmare has now become my reality. I lift the final piece of damning evidence from its velvety depths and hold it up for scrutiny in the dim morning light. Sunlight reflects off its shiny surface, illuminating the long curly strand of rich auburn hair.

It seems surreal and impossible, but the evidence damns me to my core. It's real!

I arrive in the bullpen a short time later not even remembering showering or shaving. I rub my hand over my chin to verify the performance of that necessary task. If today goes as feared, I'll need the General on my side. Best not to tick him off too early.

I cross to her office and once again take note, door closed and locked, lights out, no activity. I peer between the slats of the blinds and find a cleared, empty desk. Shaking off the sense of déjà vu, I head to Coates' desk.

Jen looks up from her activities and acknowledges my presence, "Good morning, Sir. Is there something you need?"

"Actually Jen, there is. I'm looking for Colonel MacKenzie."

"Oh, she's not here, Commander. She's was sent out of country to…."

"Naples?" I complete her sentence.

"Yes Sir, how'd you know?"

"A dream," I mumble under my breath. "Could you please get me in to see the General?"

"Sure, he should be available…"

I cross to the office before she can explain and rap on the door. I barge in and come to attention in front of his desk, before Creswell can even bark the command to 'enter.'

"Ent…ah, can I do something for you, Commander Rabb?"

"Yes Sir," I remain rigid at attention stance, "…I was hoping to take some leave time. I need to take care of some personal business."

"I see," his eyes narrow as he regards me, "…is this personal business something I need to know about?"

"No Sir!"

"Well, this isn't the best time, Commander. With the Colonel out of the office…."

"Italy Sir, she's in…."

"I'm well aware of that! Commander, do you plan to make a habit out of interrupting me?"

"No Sir, it's just that I need…."

"Personal leave, I got that part. I can't really spare you right now, not when we're already down one senior attorney." The General watched the man before him slump forward out of his rigid stance. "But…."

My head whips back up to catch his gaze, "But Sir?"

He nods at me with a bemused smile, "But, there was a flight mishap on the Patrick Henry last night. The CAG is requesting your expertise for the investigation."

"Yes Sir," my reply is less than enthusiastic.

"I'm told you might get a chance to fly while you there."

"Yes Sir."

Creswell shakes his head, "Commander, I'm giving you 8 days to complete your investigation. Eight days, no more."

"Understood Sir."

"Commander?" My eyes rise to meet his. "If you can manage to finish your investigation in less than the allotted time, feel free to attend to that personal business."

"Yes Sir!" my eyes light up.

"I believe the Patrick Henry is positioned in the Arabian Sea just a flight away from…."

"Italy," I whisper. "Yes Sir, thank you, General. Request permission to…."

"Dismissed Rabb!"

"Yes Sir!" I click my heels and quickly pivot to leave. Italy…I'm on my way to you, Sarah. No running this time.

**xxxxx**

I make my way into the NSLO building in Naples. The investigation took longer than I anticipated. Five days. Five Days! Accounting for travel time back to Washington that only leaves me 2 days to convince Mac that I'm still here. That she's the only woman for me. That I'm sorry for disregarding her feelings. That she's all that I want or need. Two days…48 hours, to ensure my eternity.

I approach the enlisted person at the first desk that I encounter. "Excuse me, Petty Officer?"

"Magalis, Sir…Petty Officer Magalis. May I help you?"

I smile nervously at the young woman as the sound of her name sends a chill down my spine. "Yes, I'm looking for Colonel MacKenzie."

"She's in court, Sir."

"I see," the monumental task before me is beginning to take its toll. If I'm going to convince Mac that I still want her, I'm going to need all of my allotted 48 hours and then some. I suddenly realize I'm standing dumbstruck before Mac's legal assist, and I haven't uttered a single word in over 3 minutes.

"I'm sorry, Petty Officer…Magalis, was it?"

"Yes Sir."

"I was wondering if I might wait in the Colonel's office," I flash her a watered-down version of my fighter jock smile.

"Sir, may I ask what this is in regards to?"

"Of course, I'm sorry. I'm a friend of the Colonel's from JAG HQ. We've served together for a number of years. I just finished up an investigation out in the Arabian Sea and was hoping to spend some time with Mac…ah, Colonel MacKenzie."

"Well…."

At that moment, I hear Mac's voice drift into the room from around the corner. She enters the office eyes sparkling and a smile on her face. She catches me out of the corner of her eye and her smile grows in intensity.

"Harm! What are you doing here?"

This isn't the reception I had anticipated…or rather had dread. I flash her my best flyboy grin, "Hey Marine, I was just in the area. The General sent me out to investigate a mishap on the Patrick Henry. I finished a couple days early and thought maybe we could spend some time together."

"I've got court this morning, but I might be able to break away this afternoon. Why don't you follow me into my office."

I release a nervous sigh and follow close behind. This isn't how I imagined this situation playing out. She doesn't seem bothered in the least about our last exchange or Megan's presence in my live.

"Ah Mac…."

She continues to chatter away, "Hey, I managed to snag quarters close to the sea, maybe we could spend the evening…."

She trails off and turns to study me, "Hey Sailor, are you okay? You're awfully quiet."

"Just tired I guess…all those time zone changes."

"At least I've had a week to settle in." She gives me a mischievous grin and pokes her finger in my chest, "Don't tell me you're gonna fall asleep on me tonight."

"Nooo…I was sorta hoping…we could talk."

"Sure," she opens her office door, "…by the way, how was the concert the other night?"

And the proverbial other shoe drops, "About that, I'm really sorry, Mac. I didn't mean any of those things I said to you."

"What?"

"And ah, about Megan…I'm not interested in her in any capacity. She was just someone I helped out while I was on my TAD a few weeks back. I didn't know she was gonna show up in D.C., much less at JAG. I don't know what I was thinking…taking her to lunch, dinner, the concert."

Mac's expression changes from one of pure happiness to intense hurt. A ring of tears wells in her eyes. She struggles to swallow, then bows her head. "It's okay, Harm," her voice cracks and she pauses to calm the tremor. "You're allowed to see whomever you want," inhaling deeply, she forces her eyes to open wider to stop the fall of tears. "I…I have no hold over you."

"Mac, that couldn't be further from the truth."

She turns back to her office, "I should get back to work. About tonight, I just remembered I have a witness to prepare for."

"Maaac," I reach for her arm and turn her back toward me. The tears have now broken loose and trail down her cheeks. I wish the earth would open up and swallow me whole.

"Mac…Sarah, I need to explain…."

"Let go of me!"

"Sarah…Please!"

"No, I can't believe you came all this way to confess some new love interest to me. I thought we were…." She pulls from my grasp and closes the office door behind her.

"Maaac, please listen to me!" I can feel the eyes of the enlisted personnel burning into my back. I beat on her door trying one last time, "Sarah, you…me…we can't run away from this all our lives."

I feel a strong hand grasp my arm, "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

**xxxxx**

I try desperately to shake away the memories of those days. Now, I'm just left with my dreams of her. I try to roll to my side and tuck her in closer to me, but the weight upon my chest impedes my movements. My dreams have become more vivid of late. I imagine her every curve, her face, her eyes…those luscious full lips. If only I'd grabbed hold of my piece of perfection sooner. I had the chance long before I threw it away. Before Italy, and Paraguay, before my murder trial. We were so close. _'We can't run away all our lives.'_ The words reverberate through my mind.

"Harm, wake up," sings a sweet lilting voice.

"No," I softly sulk back.

My dreams are certainly becoming more realistic, or is my reality simply morphing into lunacy. I'm even talking to her now. I ponder briefly, whether insanity feels like this.

"Come on, Sailor. Open your eyes!" her breath whispers softly against my cheek.

"No!"

"Why not?" her warm lips gently caress and dry my tears.

Tears, where did those come from? In all the many nights, I've indulged in my illusions and dreams; I've never cried. Never. I don't allow myself that weakness. I don't deserve to seek the solace of tears.

Cool fingers slide over my cheek and down my neck. She nuzzles her nose into mine then finds my lips with hers once again. My hand slips under the silk of her blouse and runs up the curve of her back. I count each rib and spine, memorizing their feel…never wanting to forget. So delicate, so thin, so perfect. My marine is nothing if not an enigma. Lithe and fragile in appearance…yet so strong and able underneath. Emotions held in check, close to the cuff, tough…yet so tender and giving at the core of her heart.

Her lips meander a path to my ear. "Open your eyes, sweetheart," she whispers against my skin and goosebumps march down my neck and across my chest.

Sweetheart, I like the sound of that. She's never called me sweetheart before. Harm is her usual choice, or Rabb, if she's angry. Occasionally, she calls me Sailor or Flyboy, and they sound like an endearment, but never sweetheart. Her fingers softly stroke my closed eyelids and try to will them open.

"I don't want to," I reply, resisting the pull of wakeful consciousness.

"Why not?"

"Because then you'll disappear. You're never here when I open my eyes."

"But you're missing the full moon and wonderful starlit sky. Don't you wanna make a wish? I thought you loved the stars on a peaceful quiet night…granted it's not an Afghan desert."

Stars and moon? In my bedroom?

"And what about that ocean breeze? You can't sleep away the whole evening. Open your eyes and enjoy the view."

I notice the gentle breeze ruffling through my hair. The sound of the waves lapping at the shore. That incredible scent, a mixture of her and exotic flowers. My dream never felt this real before.

"I love you, and I promise to always be here. Open your eyes."

She loves me? I slowly blink away the sleep and smile when I find her grinning down at me.

"Hey!"

There's that sexy voice. The one she knows turns my heart inside out. Of course, I can work my own brand of magic on her as well. By mutual agreement, we've decided THOSE voices stay at home behind closed doors.

"Hey," I smile back, even as the wonderful Sarah-illusion of my dream is still warm and fuzzy at the back of my mind.

"You were having that dream again, weren't you?" she gently cajoles.

Thankfully, the blush in my cheeks is lost amongst the darkness of the night. I trail my fingers down her back and over her hip trying to distract her.

"You haven't had that one in a while." I drag my hand lower still, trying to work my magic. "Why now?"

I shrug in embarrassment. I should know by now that she's not easily distracted, except when I do…this.

She gasps and wiggles away, "Oh, no you don't! You're not gonna distract me. Now what happened today to make that nightmare return?"

"Don't know," I pull her back in close. "Maybe it's being back in Italy? Or the painting?"

"I can understand that…I guess," her fingertips stroke through my hair. This woman can excite me…or relax me…with a single touch. She can send me into such a swirl of emotions that I sometimes forget my own name.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she gently persists.

"Think so," I push my face further into her palm.

"Thinks so or are sure?"

She knows me so well. If I don't move past the dream, I tend to dwell on the 'almosts'. The almost hurt. The almost missed chances. The almost end of my life. She waits for my reply. She knows just how to make it all right. This horrible, terrible nightmare that almost became my reality, except….

"Tell me the rest," I whisper and then patiently wait for the start of her tale.

"Once upon a time there was a sailor…." I laugh at her silliness and already her antics are making me forget the unsettling night terror.

"Who loved a marine so fair," I add my own verse to the tale. And we wander back in time to erase all doubt and hurt.

Her calming voice takes me back…

**xxxxx**

…"Sarah, you…me…we can't run away from this all our lives." You almost beat down my office door. I stood there with my forehead against the cold wood structure and let my tears fall. I couldn't believe we could be so close, and still lose everything in the end.

I heard the guard tell you to leave and then there was silence. I couldn't make myself move away from that door. And then I heard it.

"For once Sarah, I'm going to admit my true feelings. You can choose to ignore them or not."

I stood motionless against the door, waiting, listening…daring to hope.

Then my sailor finally let go, "I love you, Sarah. Nothing is ever going to change that. Please can we try to talk this through?"

And I waited some more. Completely and totally stunned…motionless. How could you admit to moving on with someone else one minute, and then declare your undying love for me the next? It didn't make sense. I couldn't make myself move or speak.

And I almost missed out. Just as I opened my office door to invite you in, the guard was escorting you out. Luckily, I found my command voice and yelled, "HALT."

I pause in my retelling of the tale, when I sense his lips turning up in a childish grin. "Something funny, Sailor?"

"You should have seen the expression of that marine guard's face. He didn't know what to do. I think he thought we were both crazy. We're probably lucky we didn't both end up in the brig for disturbing the peace."

I chuckle right along with him, then clear my voice, "Alright, exactly whose tale is this to tell?"

He releases a deep belly laugh and I know the somber moment has almost passed. "This part of the tale is all yours, Marine."

"Okay, where was I? Oh yes, the big bad Marine Colonel had to rescue the lowly Naval Commander from the brig." His laughter bubbles up again and I freely join in. His arms tighten around me tucking me tighter against his side.

"Once I rescued you from the guard, we retreated into my office to discuss our personal life in private. It was bad enough we ended up making the _'Navy Times'."_ His laughter sputters out once more. "Hey, don't laugh…as the senior officer, I had to explain our behavior to General Creswell. We were lucky he didn't strip us a rank."

"Yeah, yeah…back to the story, Marine."

"Anyway, when we got behind closed doors, I was still angry with you," I jab a finger into his chest. "You might have declared your undying love, but you were still dating someone else."

"Not exactly…."

"Shush, no interruptions from the audience," I pinch his side to make my point.

"Hey," he swats my hand away, "…be nice!"

"Sorry," I lean up to deliver a quick soothing peck to his lips.

"Anyways, I started asking you questions about this Megan-woman. I knew I'd never heard you mention her before. Then you started rambling on about me seeing her in JAG ops. At that point, I almost dragged you to the 'Loony Bin'. I knew I had never seen a pretty redhead hanging around your office."

"That was my first hint that my _'reality'_ wasn't quite as real as I thought," he added again to the tale.

"Right, then you started going on and on about my not wanting to attend the concert with you. That's when I knew things didn't add up. I had planned to go with you that night, right up until Sturgis got sent on that TAD to Florida. I had to take his overnight call, and ended up getting sent to Norfolk to investigate a bunch of rowdy squids."

"And you suggested that I take Mattie along to the concert instead."

"Right, that's why your confession of taking Megan didn't make any sense. I finally got you to come clean about the whole nightmare scenario…."

"Including the part about the black velvet wrap with the letter 'M'," he thoughtfully throws in.

"And that's when it all fell into place! The 'M' was for Mattie not Megan. I had given Mattie that wrap as a late Christmas gift. And of course, you forgot she also has auburn hair!"

"I didn't know whether to jump for joy, because none of it had actually happened and thus I hadn't ruined our chance," he chuckles again, "…or cry for fear because I was losing my mind."

"I managed to curb both of your irrational reactions, by throwing myself into your arms and kissing you senseless. Who knew Harmon Rabb was so easily silenced and befuddled!" And I'm laughing again at the utter ridiculousness of the situation that almost ended all hope.

Once we both finally calm down, our lips meet in a wonderful sensual embrace. When we come up for some much need air, I ask my question once more. "So why do you think your dream came back again after all this time?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, "…I guess partly because we're back in Italy. And maybe because of the painting."

Ah, the picture…it took us a while, but we finally figured out what triggered Harm's initial nightmare in the first place. You see, Megan Ransford was actually quite smitten with my sailor for a spell. Shortly after his return from that investigation in California, Megan sent him a painting. It was the one he had commented on as being his favorite. Harm wasn't quite sure what to do with the gift. He didn't want to risk insult by returning it, but he also didn't feel comfortable displaying it either. So what did my sailor do? He hid it under a basket as the saying goes, or more specifically in the back of his bedroom closet. I think he was worried I might get the wrong impression, and he was feeling more than a little guilty about their kiss. Yes, the 'Truth and Justice' Boy Scout finally fessed up and told me about the kiss. He swore she kissed him, not the other way around, but he was worried I might hear far worse from our newest addition to JAG HQ…one very bubbly and verbose, Lt. Catherine Graves.

We figured Harm's guilt had eaten away at him and had manifested itself in the nightmare. Not that my handsome sailor ever gets obsessed over anything!

Anyway, back to the story. Once Harm confessed about the painting, I wanted to see it. I had to agree, Megan had real talent. We decided to display the painting in our new home…enter one Trish Burnett to the mix. Harm's mom came for a visit and was instantly taken with the artist's creativity and talent. Trish contacted Megan and offered her a gallery showing. It was at this showing, months later, that Trish told Megan about her new daughter-in-law. Megan sent us a new painting as a belated wedding gift. A beautiful sunrise, rich in color, and vibrant with the promise of a new day. A simple note was attached, 'I hope each new sunrise grants you the promise of a perfect tomorrow.'

How does all this tie into my husband's return of the dreaded nightmare? In the beginning, he seemed to have the nightmare on a fairly regularly basis, hence our routine of retelling the 'true' tale. Then it just gradually disappeared. This is the first he's been stuck in the throws of that dreaded dream in quite some time…months actually. My best guess? It's a combination of the belated wedding gift from Megan, and our return to Italy for a second honeymoon. Our first honeymoon wasn't so much a honeymoon, as a weekend escape to get married. We decided we weren't taking anything for granted anymore, or risking another chance at screwing us up. Harm proposed to me on bended knee, right in my Naples office, on that very day. We were married a month later. Oh yeah, I guess it might be important to know that I wasn't really reassigned to Naples. They just needed a temporary senior attorney while one of theirs was out on extended leave. And as luck would have it, my apartment flooded, when a series of old pipes burst, while I was away in Norfolk on that very same concert night. General Creswell thought I was the best choice as a temporary replacement, since my apartment was being renovated and I had no place to live. Funny how a series of seemingly unrelated events, a harrowing nightmare and a vivid imagination can send your life into a tail spin.

I allow my trip down memory lane to recede into the background of my mind. I think my sailor has fully recovered now, if his wandering hands are any sign. Before he gets too confident, I intend to knock him off his stride once more.

"Harm?"

"Mmmm," his lips are moving toward that spot on my neck he knows drives me wild.

"Harm!"

"What? Can't you see I'm busy here?" he huffs in reply.

"No one said you had to stop, just take a break for a minute and listen to me."

"Don't wanna," he mumbles against the skin of my neck.

I pull back before he can distract me further and grasp his face in both my palms. He sighs and gives me a pout. I don't know if I can withstand two of them. I shake my head in wonder at the overwhelming thought.

"Harm, are you listening to me?"

"Do I have much of a choice?"

Oh great, sarcasm…I know how to smack that right out of him.

"Harm, do you think the baby will like vacationing in Italy?"

"I don't know, what's there to do besides…." His eyes grow wide as saucers when my words sink in. "What did you just say?"

"I wanted to know if you thought Italy was a good place to vacation with a child? Or maybe Disney World, at least while he/she is young. Yeah, Disney World is probably a better choice. Best to save the architectural ruins for when they're a little older."

"Mac?!"

"Of course, there's always the beach or the desert. The Grand Canyon is nice…."

"MAC!"

"Yes Harm?"

"Did the adoption agency call? Are we getting a child?"

The look of excitement on his face is breathtaking. Too bad my answer to that question is, "No."

"But you said," his expression falls.

"I asked you whether you thought Italy was a good place to bring the baby?"

"Yeah, but you just said," is his incredulous retort. I can tell his frustration is growing. And after the earlier events of the night, it's probably best not to push it.

"I said the adoption agency hasn't called…but my OB did. We're pregnant!" Okay, so now he's absolutely catatonic.

"Harm? Sailor? Sweetheart, are you still with me?"

Suddenly, I'm flying through the air, before being buried under his considerable muscular bulk. Who knew my sailor was so acrobatic…and in a hammock, no less. I would say by the exuberance of his kisses and his wandering hands that he's excited about my news. I might be tempted to ask him that very question, if I could voice a coherent thought.

Oh well, words are clearly overrated! I understand his actions just fine, now!

_The End_

_**xxxxxxxxxx XXXXX xxxxxxxxxx**_

_**AN:** Okay, so hopefully the last third of the story made up for the miserable place I took you in the beginning. I hope I was able to maintain most of my audience to the end. For those of you who bailed early, maybe the reviews will entice you to come back and finish. As for my little experiment, a girl has to have a little fun sometimes! I could NEVER actually break-up our favorite dynamic duo, I'm a dyed in the wool, 100, true-blue shipper, after all…but sometimes it's fun to play with something just a little different. Thanks for reading._


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